Sermon preached on August 16, 2026, at First Presbyterian Church of Rolla. Based on Genesis 45:1-15.
Today’s reading finds us at the climax of the Joseph cycle. Let’s back up and see how we got here. When last I spoke, Jacob was tricked into marrying both Leah and Rachel. Later, he returned to Canaan and reconciled with his brother, Esau. His many years away had allowed Esau’s anger to cool, so that even though their relationship was cool, it wasn’t hateful or violent. Jacob settled in Canaan with his twelve sons, who would eventually become patriarchs of the Twelve Tribes of Israel.
I wonder sometimes why the ancient Israelites recorded these stories. In most societies, the stories told about their founding fathers are sanitized and glorified. Romulus and Remus were mighty warriors who founded Rome. George Washington was a great general, fantastic tactician, and eminent statesman. John Calvin was a brilliant and insightful theologian whose clear thinking swept away the detritus of accumulated traditions that stood between God and God’s people. You get the idea.
But then we have stories of Jacob tricking his brother and his father, and then some really wild stories about his twelve sons. Judah was the direct ancestor of King David and therefore of Jesus of Nazareth, but that line passes through Perez, whom Judah fathered when his daughter-in-law Tamar deceived him into thinking she was a prostitute. There’s a story about Simeon and Levi avenging the rape of their sister Dinah by slaughtering all the males of the rapist’s household, but only after forcing him to marry her. There’s just some strange stuff in our origin story that most cultures would have conveniently edited out.
Then there’s the main plot, the story of Joseph. As a youth, he is clearly favored by his father. He receives a glorious coat—the coat of many colors, the coat with sleeves, the amazing technicolor dreamcoat. He is boastful and tells his brothers about his dream that revealed him to be their future master. He even speaks to his father about his dream of becoming his master. All this boasting aggravates his brothers, who at first decide to kill him. Reuben, the eldest, talks them into just selling him into slavery instead. Small consolation!
Joseph had a hard life from there. As if slavery weren’t bad enough, he ends up in prison over a false accusation. At his lowest point, he is rescued because Pharaoh has a dream that only Joseph can interpret. The dream is a warning that there will be seven fat years followed by seven years of famine. Apparently, Joseph’s ability to interpret dreams gave him the skills to manage all of the affairs of the entire kingdom of Egypt, so he is put in charge of the storehouses where Egypt saves up for the lean years.
Let’s pause here and consider: What if Joseph hadn’t gone to Egypt? Would anyone have understood the dream? Probably not. Most likely, during the fat years, the leaders of Egypt would have decided to use their bounty to go conquer new lands. Then when the famine came, the nation might have collapsed. Good thing Joseph just happened to be sold into slavery!
So a great famine comes upon the land, from Egypt up through Canaan. Joseph’s brothers have heard that Egypt has food in storehouses, so they decide to go down and get some. Their father, Jacob, is extremely fond of Benjamin, so he won’t let Benjamin go along. Joseph recognizes the brothers and has mixed emotions. He ultimately gives them food for free, but also threatens them that they need to bring their absent brother next time, and keeps Simeon as a prisoner, or actually as a hostage.
A year passes, and the famine is still hard upon the land. Joseph’s brothers want to return to Egypt, but they remember the threats that Joseph made. And what about poor Simeon? After some dithering, they realize that they have no choice. They return to Egypt with Benjamin. Joseph continues playing with them. He contrives to accuse Benjamin of stealing his cup, and then takes him prisoner.
Judah protests. He points out that Joseph would not have even known about Benjamin if the brothers hadn’t told him, and they have tried to do nothing wrong. He offers himself as a slave in Benjamin’s place.
Aha! They pass the test. See, Joseph wasn’t sure if they regretted selling him into slavery. He finally sees that they are changed men. He too has changed. He has realized the folly of his youth and the value of relationships.
That brings us to the story today. The big reveal: Joseph shows himself to be their long-lost brother, thought to be enslaved or dead. They had meant harm, and indeed Joseph had been harmed, but God worked through it for good. I don’t think God intended for Joseph to be enslaved or imprisoned, but God used those experiences to prepare Joseph and put him in place to rescue both Egypt and the founders of the nation of Israel.
Joseph makes extravagant offers. He welcomes his brothers if only they will bring his father, too. He gives them the land of Goshen, which is probably the eastern half of the Nile delta: good, fertile land where they can raise their flocks and herds. He offers reconciliation.
So again, this is a strange story to remember as the foundation of the Israelite nation. What lessons can we take from it?
For starters, Joseph became resilient. He went through some hard times. From being thrown in a pit, to being a slave, to being a prisoner, he just kept going from bad to worse. Throughout the journey, though, he remembered God’s providence. He remembered that God was with him and had promised him that all would be well in the end. That gave him the confidence to deal realistically with his situation. When he was unjustly imprisoned, he knew that fighting the accusation would gain him nothing; his only hope was to be a good prisoner and wait for Pharaoh’s favor to shine upon him. The longer he stayed alive, the more opportunities he would have for recovering his freedom and fulfilling his potential.
Those hard times were part of how he became tough enough to succeed once he joined Pharaoh’s government. Only someone whose character has been tested, who has experienced some adversity and failure, can make hard decisions and do what is right.
I know a little bit about that. I left grad school after my master’s degree for a lot of reasons, but ultimately because I was immature, like Joseph telling his dreams to his brothers. From there, I went to Motorola, which was trying to avoid bankruptcy after a bad bet on Iridium. My business unit was shut down, the whole division that I was in got spun off as On Semiconductor, and I left to work at Baldor.
Well, Baldor wasn’t much better. It was solvent at least, but I was in a division that didn’t get much support from upper management. Rhonda and I were lonely with few real friends and far away from other family. In addition to the interpersonal struggles, I eventually realized that I wasn’t learning anymore, and went back to the University of Illinois as a staff engineer.
Fast forward a few years, and I had my Ph.D. and a job as an assistant professor at Missouri S&T. Now, being a tenure-track assistant professor is a tough gig, filled with disappointments and setbacks. Every paper I’ve ever written has been rejected before ultimately being published. My success rate on proposals runs between 10 and 20 percent—meaning that I fail 80-90% of the time. But the hard times at Motorola and Baldor gave me the resilience to succeed as a professor.
I bet everyone here can relate a similar story. We have this vision of life as a straight line of growth. The reality is usually a scraggly line full of ups and downs. My brother Bob describes his career as Chutes & Ladders—he would be going along well, climbing the corporate ladder, and then have a setback. Anyone who has been a parent has experienced disappointments and heartbreaks along with the joys and triumphs of their children’s lives. Our spiritual life can be like that, too, from times when we feel God’s love flowing over and through us to times when we are angry at God or feel betrayed by God or feel ashamed of ourselves and unable to approach God. Even Mother Teresa, who had mystical visions early in life, expressed sorrow over decades of “spiritual dryness” when God seemed absent from her life.
But tough times make tough people, as they did to Joseph. Like him, we can be sure that God is working through the tough times to bring us to a place of abundant life.
And what is abundant life? Or as I often say, human flourishing? Flourishing requires satisfying needs on Maslow’s hierarchy, particularly love and belonging. We all need healthy, supportive, and loving relationships. We all have circles of relationships: a circle of intimacy with a small group of people with whom we can share deep vulnerability, a circle of friendship with close friends who bring joy and consistency to our lives, a circle of participation that comprises the people we see regularly at work, school, church, or other organizations, then a broader community in which these relationships are embedded. We need all of these relationships—all levels of closeness—in order to truly flourish.
In a perfect world, our circle of intimacy, or at least our circle of friendship, would include our family of origin as well as our family by marriage. We do not live in a perfect world. The reality is that family estrangement is common, and perhaps becoming even more common. As you might expect, I meet a lot of people who had a falling out with their parents and siblings. One friend hadn’t spoken to her father in several years, until reconciling just a few months ago. Another friend still gives their family a wide berth when they see each other at a store or something. These are just a couple of the 38% of Americans who say that they are estranged from someone in their family—a sibling, parent, child, grandparent, or grandchild.
Relationships are hard. Sometimes, the only way to resolve conflict is to go your separate ways for a while. We see that in two generations in Genesis. First Jacob and Esau have a falling out, but reconcile after two decades of separation. Then Joseph and his brothers, Jacob’s other sons, have a falling out, but reconcile years later. This reconciliation can only occur when both parties have changed. The relationships could not have continued on the same terms. Only by going their separate ways could Jacob and Esau re-enter a relationship as equals. Only Joseph’s forced separation and his brothers’ remorse over their actions, leavened by time, could bring them all to the point where they could reconcile. As long as they were together, the heat of the conflict prevented healing.
All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well. God’s eternal kingdom is an existence of universal human flourishing, which means complete reconciliation with one another and with God. So we all have hope: hope that all our relationships will be healed, hope that we will be truly reconciled to each other. It may happen next week, next year, decades from now, or at the end of the age. Eventually, we will all be one in Christ Jesus our Lord.
As a professor, and especially as a department chair, resolving interpersonal conflicts is a significant part of my job. Advisors and grad students don’t always see eye to eye. Instructors and students don’t always see eye to eye. Faculty and administrators don’t always see eye to eye. Scarcity is one aspect of the problem, or sometimes an aggravating factor. The majority of the problem, though, is that we all have limited understanding of one another. In any interaction, there are my intentions, my actions, and the impact on the other person. I can’t know what the other person is really thinking, and they can’t know what my true intentions are. So even when we all see the same reality, the same set of actions, our interpretation of that reality will differ, giving rise to conflict.
Eventually, we will all see clearly and be reconciled to one another. And then comes restoration. It was good that Joseph and his brothers could heal their relationships. It was better that the healing led to rescue from the famine and the restoration of a cohesive family that fathered a great nation. We belong to Christ, and so we are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the promise. That promise was fulfilled because of the restoration of Jacob’s family, which was made possible by the reconciliation of Joseph with his brothers.
The hope of that reconciliation and restoration empowered Joseph’s resilience. We too can have hope that we will be reconciled to one another, that all of our relationships will one day be restored. Jesus prayed that we would all be one, just as he and the Father are one. Perhaps soon, perhaps at the end of the age, but eventually, we will all be one, whole, unified as part of God’s family and citizens of God’s kingdom. Let the hope of reconciliation and restoration empower your own resilience, as we pray that God’s kingdom come, God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Amen.
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